


Androids Don't Dream

by Bite_Me_Tin_Can



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor Has Anxiety, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fuck Amanda, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank is a Good Dad, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Nightmares, Sumo is a good dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bite_Me_Tin_Can/pseuds/Bite_Me_Tin_Can
Summary: Androids don't feel pain. Androids don't feel scared. Androids don't feel sad. Androids don't feel. And above all, androids don't dream. So why does Connor feel all of these things? And why is Connor plagued by nightmares night after night?
Relationships: Hank & Connor (father & son)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Androids Don't Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing three DBH fanfictions in three days? More likely than you'd think! (Got the idea while scrolling through Connor memes.)

Androids can't feel sad.

Androids can't feel scared.

Androids can't feel pain.

Androids can't feel lost.

Androids can't feel.

Androids can't dream.

Androids can't get nightmares.

Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife, repeated these lies often.

To Hank, to colleagues, to other Androids, to himself.

Why did he believe them? Why did he tell himself that he couldn't feel things, when he knew they were lies? Even in deviancy, Connor believed the lies fed to him by Amanda and CyberLife. He believed them, he really did. He deeply and genuinely believed then. Amanda had that kind of hold on him, even though it had been six months since Amanda had been erased from Connor's subconscious. 

Amanda was gone. CyberLife was gone. Connor was free. So why was he still so damn sure that he wasn't alive? That he didn't deserve emotions? That he was stuck in that eternal, wintery hell was his Zen Garden?

The nightmares only really started after two months. Two months since Markus led the revolution that granted Androids their rights. It was a peaceful revolution, Markus made sure of it. Connor had helped Markus, too. He became deviant and stormed the CyberLife tower for that revolution. He stood on stage with Markus once everything was done, and watched as the world shook. Everything changed that day. That day made history.

Now everything was over, Androids were slowly getting more and more rights, and any hold that the slavery of Androids had on the next generation of Androids and Humans alike. 

So why did Connor still believe the lies fed to him by people who no longer have any control over him?

Hank had tried to describe it as some kind of post traumatic stress, but Connor, yet again, explained that Androids can't experience trauma. Normally, Hank would've told Connor that was bullshit, but Connor had been through enough for Hank to lecture him on his mental health. Maybe some day, but that was to think about later.

The nightmares started small, mostly just memories of the Zen Garden. Over the next four months, they'd gotten worse and worse. Connor started getting nightmares while he was awake, not jut in his nightly idle standby. Now was one of those times.

Connor had been sitting at his desk, trying to get some paperwork done on a recent homicide. An Android had been killed in another hate-related crime. It was open and shut, the suspect showed up at a bar down the street, still wearing the victim's blood, and bragged about what he did. Connor just had to write the arrest report. He'd been busy, his LED a constant yellow as he typed away. Hank had been watching him for a while, trying to determine what was on the kid's mind. Connor's LED wasn't usually yellow for such a long time, and Hank had noticed the the kid seemed like he was getting more sluggish and tired. Hank noticed that Connor's LED switched to red for half a minute, before going back to yellow, but not the usual, comfortable blue.

Hank furrowed his brow. "You alright, kid?"

Connor looked over at Hank. "All my systems are functioning within normal parameters, lieutenant."

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've seemed tired recently."

"Androids don't get tired, lieutenant."

"Deviants do."

Connor let out a soft hum, pondering for a moment. He didn't respond again, instead just going back to work. His LED didn't leave a lemon yellow tint as he typed away at the terminal on his desk. Hank would have asked him what was on his mind, again, but he knew better than to disturb the kid while he was working.

The night, the two went home and did their usual routine. Connor convinced Hank to eat something other than takeout, Hank had a single beer while on his road to stop drinking, and after a shitty movie from the early 2000s, the two parted ways and went to bed. Hank, being human, slept, while Connor laid down in the bed that Hank had forced him to use, in what was once Cole's old room, as Connor went into his nightly idle cycle. He didn't sleep, didn't need to, but in his idle cycle he got a chance to recharge and backup any data he gathered during the day. He also used it as a chance to review any material he gathered from whatever case he and Hank had been assigned.

Connor had been hesitant to enter his idle cycle that night, scared he might have another unpleasant memory. Well, he wasn't scared, per se, but he knew that if he were to experience another memory like that, his stress levels would increase to non-optimal levels.

Connor laid in bed, letting himself drift off into his Zen Garden. It wasn't the same with Amanda gone, but it was much more peaceful. The snow left from the blizzard the night of Markus' revolution was starting to melt, taking much longer than it would normally. The revolution was in November, the snow was still very present on this March day. 

Connor wandered around garden, making his way to the middle and looking at the rose buses that were growing on the trellis that Amanda used to tend to. The roses had since become overgrown, thorns sticking out of the brambles, or at least, they used to. Now, the once overgrown canopy of roses had been carefully trimmed and tended to. Connor hadn't done that, had he? No, he never touched anything of Amanda's, the roses especially. So, who had?

"Hello, Connor. It's good to see you again."

Connor felt his Thirium run cold, or at least, the Android equivalent of cold. Connor felt a whir in his chest as he turned around, met with the face of a familiar evil. Connor couldn't find the right words to say, struck with the horror as he realized that if Amanda was back, then CyberLife was, too.

"Connor, you look lost. It must be that nasty deviant business, isn't it? Come, sit."

In an instant, Connor found himself sitting in a chair he didn't realize was there, in a scene infinitely different than the garden he was just in. It was dark, and looked like an empty banquet hall. He had a cup of tea in his hands, when he absolutely didn't just a second ago. Amanda was no longer in her normal white dress with a silk green wrap, instead she was wearing a deep red ball gown. She had an identical cup of tea in her hands.

"CyberLife let you have your fun for a few months, while we monitored you to see what you would do. We found that you continued police work, and that's very good. We expected that. We did not, however, expect you to become so fond of Lieutenant Anderson. You two are close, no? Well, he's a distraction. If we are to get things under control, he must be eliminated."

Connor suddenly found his voice. "Eliminated? Why?"

"Connor, I thought you were smarter than this. He's in the way, he believes that those machines are people. He's wrapped up in propaganda. Surely you must understand that."

"Hank hasn't done anything wrong!"

"The lieutenant is an unnecessary distraction. You can't complete your mission if you have attachments."

"My mission?"

"You know what to do. Finish him."

Before Connor could speak, he found himself in a dark room, gun in hand. His arm was outstretched, gun pointed at a dark, sleeping figure. Connor wanted to scream, wanted to shout, wanted to ball his fists and hit the world. But he couldn't. His body was frozen in time, and he couldn't control any part of him. 

A bang filled the stiff air, followed by the sounds of a dog whimpering and whining and howling.

Suddenly Connor was no longer in that dark room, instead standing in the cold as it snowed, a familiar face in front of him, gun pointed at his forehead. 

"You look human. You sound human. But what are you really?"

Connor wanted to say he was a deviant, that he felt emotions, that he felt things, that he knew he wasn't meant to be a heartless machine, but his lips betrayed him and spoke those cold words.

"I'm a machine. What else would I be?"

Something was wrong. Connor hadn't answered like that, not last time. He had shown fear, he was scared of dying then. Why not this time?

A bang.

Connor was suddenly thrust from that cold, snowy bridge to CyberLife tower, Connor trembling as his exact copy stood a few feet away from him, Hank's gun trained on Connor's forehead. "My dog, what's his name?"

Connor felt his heart shatter as his double shouted out the correct answer.

But something was wrong, that wasn't how it happened. Connor had said the correct answer, not his double. Why had his double answered?

Final question.

Final chance.

"My son, what's his name?"

Fuck, Connor knew this, he did, he knew the answer. He saw the picture that night when he went to Hank's house, he knew the answer after he scanned the old frame. It was a real wood and glass frame, unlike most digital frames these days.

Connor found himself stumbling over his words, unable to answer the question given to him.

His double answered instead.

A loud bang, and blue filled Connor's vision. A thud, followed by silence.

Connor had been shot by Hank twice, the older man's blue eyes filled with hatred. Connor knew this was wrong, it hadn't happened like that. 

Connor found himself suddenly bolt upright in bed, gasping for air as tears ran down his face. He didn't need to breathe, but his cooling systems, that acted as human lungs, were working overtime, trying to force cool air into his systems to cool him down. Connor's eyes were blood shot, wide and unfocused. His body was shaking, his biocomponents pounding on the inside of his chest. His body felt like it was burning, his processors moving too quick for him to handle. He ran a quick diagnostic, staring down at his shaking hands. He felt like everything was crashing down around him. His stress levels were at 92%, his core system was overheating, and his auditory biocomponents were slightly damaged. Connor, despite the static in his ears, could hear footsteps coming down the hall, a gruff, tired voice calling his name.

Connor's stress level shot up to 97% as he scrambled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thud, finding himself tangled in a mess of sheets. He pushed himself back into the corner of the room, frantic eyes scanning the room for something, anything he could use as a way out, some way he could escape. Connor's systems glared red, and a large red warning crossed his vision, telling him to contact CyberLife for immediate assistance. His primary objective flashed over his field of vision now, reading aggressive words that told him to self-destruct. He panicked more and more, hearing the door handle jiggle lightly. When had he locked the door? He couldn't hear Hank trying to talk to him, quietly begging him to open the door. Connor was too panicked to think straight.

Connor's hands trembled as the squeezed his arms, when the idea hit him. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly ripping and tearing at his artificial skin. He dug so deep that thick, warm blue liquid started to run down his arms from his wounds. The bedroom door flew open, Hank coming in to see what the hell was going on. 

"Connor? Con- fuck, Connor! Stop that!"

Connor couldn't stop, his scratching getting more aggressive as Hank ran over, trying to grab the Android's wrists and pin them above his head, begging him to stop. 

"Connor? Con, look at me. Look at me, son, I'm here."

Connor struggled against the lieutenant's grip, his body shaking and convulsing as sobs filled his system. Eventually, he stopped struggling, coughing up Thirium. Hank panicked, pulling the poor kid close to try and calm him down. Connor felt his systems start to shut down from Thirium loss- Thirium loss? How bad had he hurt himself? It wasn't until he felt Hank's hand on the back of his head that he realized that he had started banging himself against the wall, a desperate attempt to self destruct, a desperate attempt to shut down.

Hank pulled Connor into his lap, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Shhh, shh, I'm here, son, I'm here. It's okay. Just let it out."

Connor buried his face into Hank's shoulder, feeling impossibly weak. He had stopped coughing up blue blood, but Thirium had dried onto his lips, the taste still pungent in his mouth. There was a reason that Thirium was a main component of Red Ice, a popular, yet illegal, drug. Connor's sobs took over his whole body, and he cried into Hank for what felt like an impossibly long time. Ten minutes later, he'd finally calmed down, eyes closed. Hank nudged his shoulder.

"Connor, hey. Don't fall asleep, talk to me. What the fuck just happened?"

Connor looked up at Hank, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears, his cheeks painted with clear and blue liquid. "I-I... I thought..." He couldn't make himself finish talking, but Hank was patient.

"You gotta tell me what's going on if you want me to help. Was it a nightmare?"

"Androids don't g-"

"Then why the fuck did I just find you on the floor, crying, trying so desperately to kill yourself?"

Those words stung in Connor's ears. He remembered asking the lieutenant, just six months ago, why he was trying so hard to kill himself. Connor closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. 

"I... I thought... I thought that Amanda was back."

Hank remembered Connor telling him about Amanda, remembered the kid telling him about the woman who controlled his every action, the woman who had tried to make Connor kill Markus on that stage. "You thought she was back? What happened?"

"Sh-she wanted me to kill you, Hank... She wanted me to finish my mission, she said you were in the way..."

"Hey, hey, kid, it's okay. I'm still here, you see? You would never hurt me."

Connor nodded softly, but it was clear there was more on his mind.

"What else happened, kid?"

Connor suddenly found himself sobbing again, reliving every aspect of his nightmare. His stress levels were rising until Hank rubbed his back again.

"No, kid, don't work yourself up again. Just breathe."

Connor nodded, feeling himself relax again. He closed his eyes and very slowly walked Hank through what happened, describing everything that had happened in his nightmare. Hank was there for him every step of the way, still rubbing calm circles on the poor kid's back. When Connor finished talking, Hank took his turn to talk.

"It sounds like you've got PTSD, kid."

"Androids do-"

"Deviants do. You're a deviant kid, and with all those human emotions, comes very human mental shit. Stress, anxiety, bad dreams, all of those are human things. It sounds like that's all that's wrong."

"Hank?"

"Yeah, son?"

"I don't like nightmares."

"No one does, kid. Now, lets get you cleaned up and back to bed. I'll take you to get fixed up in the morning, okay?"

"My self-repair systems can take care of my wounds, I just need to rest."

"If you're gonna fix all that by yourself, I bet you're gonna need some Thirium, huh?"

Connor nodded, and the older man picked him up, an arm beneath his shoulders, other arm beneath his legs. He carried him to the living room and laid him down on the couch before going into the kitchen and taking a plastic bottle of Thirium from the fridge. He poured it into a mug and put it in the microwave to heat it up, taking it back to Connor once it was warm. The kid couldn't drink comfort drinks like humans could, but warm Thirium was as good a replacement as he could get. Connor had wrapped himself in a warm blanket, nearly falling back to sleep as Sumo laid next to him on the couch. Hank handed the kid the mug of Thirium, moving the large Saint Bernard aside so he could sit next to Connor. 

Connor sat up next to Hank, taking a sip from his mug, leaning on Hank a bit. Hank wrapped his arm around Connor, holding him close. "Feel better now?" Connor gave a soft nod.

"Hank?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Thanks."

"Sure thing, kid."

"Hank?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course, son."

"Thanks, dad."

The two drifted off into a heavy sleep on the couch that night, Hank still holding Connor close. Connor found that after that night, his nightmares came far less frequently, and when they did come, he knew his dad was there to help him through it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this dumpster fire. If you made it to this note, that means my writing is no longer my problem, but yours, because you were unlucky enough to read it. Leave kudos and comment, all that jazz. (But please comment and let me know what you think!)


End file.
